


Dark Secrets Long for Light

by fleurs du mal (shinsou)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Angst, Blood That May Or May Be Not Mild, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Bond-ish, Han Solo dies, Hurt/Comfort, No Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-22 20:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6093457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinsou/pseuds/fleurs%20du%20mal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a story once in France during the troubled times of the July monarchy of a girl as bright as a radiant star and a boy as dark as the tar-black night sky. When his darkness covered her like a funeral shroud, her light trembled but only shone stronger illuminating the shroud into a silk veil. A story of light and darkness, a tale of the beauty and the beast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Elderflower

**Author's Note:**

> I will finish this before episode VIII, I swear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elderflower - Compassion;

A little beggar girl, all skin and bones but so energetic, smart and agile. It would be hard not to be because otherwise she would not survive. The girl needed those skills in order to catch or steal her living. She had no other choice, being an orphan and never having known her parents or if she had any other family. Neither the darkness nor the hunger nor the drunkards’ rage frightened her but this one sensation that gnawed at her chest, making her feel uneasy and cold as the first snow. She was all alone. No one stayed in her life; everybody was just blurred black figures walking down the alleys, a tossed coin or a morsel of bread. The hunger made her strong and stubborn but not ruthless.

The little dark-haired girl was hungrily biting onto a baked fish she bought earlier with the franc she found on the pavement. She closed her eyes as the taste overwhelmed her senses and saliva poured into her mouth. Moments like that were so rare, she felt blissful. She removed the fish from her lips, chewing slowly and savouring the sensation. It tingled her palate in the most satisfying way, sensing the salty taste of the sea, still lingering in the meat of the fish. The girl felt out of this world. However, she quickly came back from her senses as she felt something snatch the fish, _her_ fish from her grip. And there it stood – a white and bluish-grey cat holding _her_ food in its mouth.

“You little piece of shi—” the urchin screamed as she rose quickly on her feet and chased the cat. It launched its body forward galloping through the people crowding the market. She, however was not about to let that damn cat take what she only had a bite of. She did not mind the people shouting after her as her mind was set upon one objective: Take. Back. The fish. She chased the flashes of white and grey but the damn thing was fast, always a few meters ahead. The cat slowed down and the little orphan reached out her hands and ducked while still moving forward fast, trying to seize the thief. But then the creature took a sharp turn and hid behind a pair of legs, which caused the girl to smash right into them, falling backwards.

After she quickly recovered, she looked upward to meet the blue eyes of an elderly gentleman dressed in earthy tones. Through the gap between his feet, she saw the cat calmly eating the fish it held down with a paw. While staring angrily at the creature, a calloused hand obscured her vision – the man was holding out his hand to help her stand on her feet.

“Come on, girl.” He leaned and picked her up while her eyes were stubbornly studying him, her mouth twisting and trying to say something. “Seems like Arthur has something that belongs to you” – he looked at the cat licking his paw and meowing contently “- had, I mean.”

“How old are you child?” he asked. “Where are your parents?”

“I don’t have any.” She said quite muffled, not opening her mouth properly so the words could come out clearly. Rey had learned not to trust strangers, however kind they might seem to be. His blue eyes pierced through her and she felt exposed. He knew that she was a beggar, that she was alone and slept in the streets.

“Care to come at my house? I’m sure I can amend the damage Arthur caused.” The gentleman smiled and it seemed that light radiated from his face – from his weary blue eyes, from the wrinkles around them and from his thin smile. She simply nodded without taking her eyes off his face. The light captivated her.

“I’m Mr. Skywalker”

“I’m Rey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-ed by the most helpful tumblr user transcognitarian.
> 
> Hello, this is my first try in two years to write and post something. I'm open to criticism although I'm only writing this to indulge my obsession. It can be (who am I fooling, it is) melodramatic and cheesy and predictable, so it fits my criteria for guilty pleasure, but I sincerely hope you like it!  
> 


	2. Cinquefoil and rosebay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cinquefoil: Beloved child; A beloved daughter  
> Rosebay (Rhododendron): Beware; Danger

Ten years have passed since their first encounter and Rey was living happily with Mr. Skywalker in his cottage. He was good to her, kinder than most fathers were. She even started calling him that way, as he was the only family she ever had and his home became her home. This happened after many night terrors, the girl waking up in the small hours, screaming about going back to the town, where her parents could find her. The man would light the candle near her bed and embrace her, stroking her hair until she calmed down. He taught her how to ride a horse, how to read and how to help him in his craft. Mr. Skywalker was a bookbinder. Usually once a week someone came to the cottage, which was located a few kilometers away from the outskirts of the town, and brought him the printed pages, which he was to bind. Then the old man was to bring them back to town when he was done so that the books would be distributed to the bookshops. He used his trip to the town so he could buy flour, meat and other necessities and occasionally a small gift for Rey.

The girl, now almost a woman, flourished under Mr. Skywalker’s care. Hunger undoubtedly had left its mark on her but now the sides of her face were always pinkish-red and words rolled off sweetly of her tongue through her soft lips. She grew kinder but stronger, graceful in her skills and wildness. Rey was like a flower that thrived on light and goodness. She loved her father, her only father and took satisfaction in having to take care of him – making him a cup of tea while he was stamping gilded letters on the binding leather or bringing him a glass of warm red wine when he was working late. Rey would often help him with the binding – she loved the feeling of crisp paper between her fingertips and the metallic smell of ink.

People sensed her good nature and felt disposed to like her outgoing personality. The boys who came bringing the freshly printed pages for binding could not get their eyes off her. She recognised it but did not feel the urge to return the feelings. She was happy as she was, in her small home, surrounded by the green valley and the thick woods. Rey would often take one of the bound copies and go out to read in the sunshine, sitting on the warm earth and listening to the grass swaying around her.

It was a stormy January but the work did not cease. After finishing with the last one of his current batch Mr. Skywalker stacked the books on some cloth and tied them together, then put them in wax-coated sacks. Rey was pacing around nervously in her ivory white home dress, making sure that everything is where it needs to be and her father has not forgotten anything. She put a shawl around her shoulders and saw him out, as he placed the sacks on both sides of the horse and climbed on its back. Arthur was lovingly stroking his fur against the fabric of her dress as she reached down and picked the old cat up. They decided that truce should be made after their first unfortunate meeting and she loved that annoying, clingy and arrogant bastard.

“Take care.” She said worriedly.

“You too, my girl. I should be back by the time it gets dark.”

The man waved his hand goodbye as the horse slowly made its way through the snow. Rey waved too and after he went halfway up to the horizon, she retreated back inside.

 

* * *

 

 

Mr. Skywalker successfully delivered the books to the distributor, quickly bought some things from the market and was ready to get back home. It was snowing lightly and snow was piling on the shoulders of his cape. He knew that travelling through a snowstorm would be impossible so he had to make haste.

Grey clouds were covering the skies - it was becoming darker sooner than he expected. A north wind picked up and the snowflakes twirled in front of the man’s eyes. He guarded them with his forearm and cursed the weather. Going home would be harder now despite having travelled on this route a thousand times. Then he saw the black shade of the forest. The whiteness surrounding him was confusing his senses. He must have strayed from the road and now was on the other side of the woods. Night was coming and he had to pass through thick forest hoping that he would not get completely lost and that the trees would partially block the wind.

Carefulness and haste did not go hand in hand. There was no path through the woods and if Mr. Skywalker did not want to damage his horse or himself, he had to climb down and guide it. It was still snowing ragingly, his and the horse’s breath was coming out in clouds, his boots sinking in the deep snow. He lowered the hand shielding his eyes and desperately looked around the forest. He did not know of a single person living in it, not even gypsies or bandits. Until he noticed a dim light, almost invisible in one of the darkest nights he had seen. As he approached it, he heard a familiar voice filled with concern, brought to him by the gusts of wind. He shouted, walking blindly through the forest and the blizzard until Mr. Skywalker saw her in her light blue hooded cape, trimmed with dark brown fur carrying a luminous lantern. Rey.

„Father, oh, I found you!” She ran to him and hugged him. He touched her face, chilled red from the cold and wet with melting snowflakes.

“Rey, you should have stayed at home! It seems to me that there is a dim light over there, do you see it?”

Rey nodded and hand by hand, the two figures and their horses made their path thought the deep snow. As they came closer, they saw the silhouette of an old castle mostly ruined and consumed by the forest. Climbing plants, which now had lost their leaves and greenness clawed the walls like veins. The castle was surrounded by a decline in the ground which might have been a moat, now dried or frozen and covered with snow. The dim light was coming from the tallest and biggest of the towers. Rey and Mr. Skywalker walked upon the bridge leading to the castle door. She clutched his hand tighter as he brought his right hand closer to knock on the thick wooden door. Then, at the slightest touch, it cracked open. The man pushed it further and cautiously entered followed by the girl, still holding hands.

They were at the beginning of a tunnel, which led to the courtyard. Mr. Skywalker took both horses’ reins and tied them under a penthouse that looked like it once was part of what might have been a stable. Then he and the girl hastily crossed the open space, snow crunching underneath the soles of their boots and sticking to the hem of Rey’s gown. They climbed one side of the flair stairs that led to the castle door, which was half-open, creaking in the wind. Slowly entering inside, they found themselves standing in the middle of a long dark corridor. The doors flung shut behind them.

“Hello? Is anybody here?” the man shouted as they walked into the complete darkness and silence disrupted only by the light from the lantern that Rey carried in her outstretched hand and the sounds of their ragged breathing, leaving the howling wind behind. It smelled of old wet stone, fresh snow blown by the wind and something sweet and fragrant. In front of them was a thick wooden door, the engravings on which danced in the flickering light of the lantern. Mr. Skywalker pushed it open and they entered the great hall of the castle. A dozen candles, set alight moments after they stepped in, joined the light cast from Rey’s lantern. Flames were licking the sides of the fireplace. The light, not strong enough to drive the darkness out of the vast hall uncovered a long table on which were laid all kinds of meals and drinks – roasted grouses and turkeys, glassy grapes, vibrant pomegranates and sweet pears, jugs full of dark ale and light lager and blood-red wines.

“Hello?” this time they both shouted and their voices echoed through the hall and continued ringing through the half-ruined castle. Yet again, no one answered. It was confusing – although old ruined castles were not rare they did not expect that upon entering one they would find such a feast. Rey wandered around the room, exploring it, bringing the lantern up to illuminate the tapestries and paintings. Their colours were ashen and dust was covering the old cracked paint and the faded crimson and silver threads.

“Rey, don’t wander around too much. Do not forget that we are intruders here.” Rey pulled a worn out velvet chair that was closest to the fireplace and sat on it, her father remaining standing up next to her, waiting for the one living there to appear. He wanted to present themselves to him, to elucidate that they meant no harm or disturbance and would like only to wait for the snowstorm to pass and perhaps some water. An hour passed by and Rey succeeded in convincing Mr. Skywalker that to sit down on the chair next to her was not by any means disrespectful but only necessary after waiting so long. The warmth of the fire made them both feel tired and relaxed their rigid muscles.

Eventually, Mr. Skywalker feel asleep. Soon the clock over the fireplace struck midnight. Rey was surprised that it was working. Her mouth was going completely dry. Their host would not notice the absence of two or three mouthfuls of wine. She chose a decanter filled with deep red wine with fruity scent and poured herself half a glass. She brought it to her lips and sipped from it, savouring its tangy and refreshing tart taste, feeling warmth spreading from the core of her body to her fingertips. Rey had never tasted anything like it before. She unbuttoned her hooded cape and rested it on the chair next to her father. The wine invigorated her, setting her cheeks aflame, making her feel lightheaded. She headed towards the door from which they entered and passed through it. Rey welcomed the cold air hitting her heated skin and wandered off through the long corridor leading to the front gate. She sensed the rich aroma from hours before. In the dim light casting from the half-open door and her mind free from the battle with the cold she could now see them – dozens of dark red roses creeping from a ruined window frame. She had never seen roses such as these – red as blood, so fragrant and blossoming in the cold winter, despite the snow. Rey found herself longing to touch their velvety petals, she reached down and picked one flower. She brought it to her nose, inhaling the rich aroma and exhaling softly. The girl was tucking the rose in the chest pleats of her gown when she heard a horrendous roar that sent chills down her spine and made her feel nauseated. She hurried towards the light of the great hall, finding her father awake.

“Rey, where were you? You should not have wande—” He was interrupted by the slamming of the heavy wooden door of the hall behind her and although his face gave away nothing the girl saw the horror in his weary eyes. She felt a terrifying presence coming close to her and a breath on the nape of her neck. Rey did not dare to turn around – as if the person behind her had some invisible power over her that stiffened her body and made it ignore the commands of her mind to flee.

“Was it not enough? You entered my castle, sheltered from the weather, warmed by my fire and drank from my wine. And then half-drunk on it you had to take my most prised possession.” A horrifying voice echoed and made the candles flicker and she felt something graze her shoulder.

“I am deeply sorry, sir. We did not mean to disturb you, let alone cause you grief. We will leave at once, my daughter, and I. Please, sir, we will never cross your path again, I swear!” Mr. Skywalker’s voice was strong and clear but obviously worried.

“You are free to go, old man, but she must stay and learn her lessons.”

“I cannot do this! Take me instead, take my life but spare her!”

“I do not need your life, old man, but I may take it as you offer and then keep your daughter.” The girl felt the weight lifted from her shoulder. A black hand, no, not hand, as it was covered with thick hairs and its long fingers ended with black, sharp claws, entered her gaze and reached for the rose in her gown. It grabbed the stem of the flower and harshly pulled it, the thorns tearing through the fabric and grazing her soft skin.

“Father, go! I am the one wanted.” Rey shouted as the sight of the black hand, the terror from it brought her back to her senses, and she no longer felt like an observer to the events happening. She slowly began turning her head in order to see the beast behind her but suddenly felt faint. The last thing she saw was the despair in Mr. Skywalker’s tearful eyes and tar black fur, then the blackness spread over the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying to include scenes from the movie therefore the fic may be a bit violent at times (therefore the rating but no need for a warning in my opinion). Still, I'd warn you in the chapter notes. Again, beta-ed by tumblr user transcognitarian.


	3. Snakesfoot and whin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snakesfoot - Horror; Terror  
> Whin - Anger

The beast made her faint and swiftly picked up her body as it was falling. He cradled it in his arms and once again addressed the gentleman:

“Listen to your daughter, now, Skywalker. Do what you did once and run again like you did all those years ago.” The man felt his blood freezing. It could not be possible. He did not think there could be a living person that really knew what happened then except him. All the horror and loss, all those young lives – gone. Eventually, it became one of the many tragedies that accompanied the history of mankind, the memory of it drowned in the troubled times. All words got caught in his throat. The sinews in his neck strained as he clenched his jaw, allowing only one word to escape his dry lips.

“Ben?” he croaked.

“No, not anymore, _marshal_. Are you blind? He is dead; he died with them, with my father, and my mother.”

Every word stung Mr. Skywalker, painful memories rising up in his consciousness. His former pupils, some of the best boys, both highborn and lowborn, their laughter echoing in the training hall, and his laughter too.

“Silent as ever, my teacher. What do you want to hear from me? I killed them all? Yes, I did.”

“If there is any good left in you, please, let her go! Don’t make her pay for my mistakes.” The beast did not grant him an answer to his plea.

“The blizzard is no longer blustering, I command you to leave!” Mr. Skywalker felt powerless once more before the stormy rage of the creature. It was useless fighting him. His heart was broken. The beast exited the great hall and entered the dark corridors of the ruined castle, his precious rose laid in the girl’s lifeless crossed hands, leaving the man alone. Mr. Skywalker clenched his hands into fists as hot silent tears streamed down his face, following the wrinkles time had carved into it. He quietly picked up the lantern Rey brought and left the room, finding his way to the gates. Outside the sky was clear and the stars were bright. The horses felt the presence of their master and stamped with their hooves on the fresh snow. Mr. Skywalker took their reins in his right hand and headed home, his head bowed down.

Rey awoke late in the morning with a mild ache in her head and the smell of roses surrounding her. The events of last night overtook her mind and made her sit up sharply. She was all alone, still in the old ruined castle in the middle of the woods, but in a different room. Then the terror inspired by her captor washed over her and she had not even seen his face. Was it so invading to have a glimpse of it that he instead chose to stun her? Was she so unworthy? The girl got out of the bed and looked around the room – it was hexagonal and the walls had been built with the same kind of stone blocks as the other parts of the castle. There was a bay window to the east and several casement windows on the other three walls. On the sixth, there was a fireplace, the stone around it still warm. A shield-shaped floor mirror stood in one of the corners with a Chippendale frame made of dark wood, the same wood that framed the glass of the windows. The bed that she had slept in was a big four-poster bed with two mattresses and several featherbeds on top, thus it was high enough to reach her hips. It was made from dark oak, which was intricately carved into an ornate headboard and posts. A large painted porcelain jug willed with water, a matching basin and a glass were sitting on top of the small table placed next to her bed. There was a letter on the bed, next to where her head had been while she was sleeping, sealed with black wax. Rey went round the bed and picked up the folded paper. The seal depicted a coat of arms – two wolves, supporters of the arms, holding a shield with a flaming bird, a phoenix. She broke it and unfolded the letter.

“You are free to explore your new surroundings. Trying to escape is pointless. You are not allowed in the highest tower. Dinner is at eight. Wear the dress. Your presence is obligatory.” She folded the paper again and noticed the black fabric at the footboard of the bed, only its texture distinguishing it from the furs that were her covers. Rey put the letter down on the bed and picked up the dress. It was a soft velvet dress with silver embroidered lilies along the chest, the sleeves and the hem. The garment had an empire waist and puffy sleeves, suggesting that it was at least a decade old dress. With it came a pair of black velvet gloves with silver buttons and a pair of matching shoes. She discarded the items and went on with exploring the castle.

Winter reminded her of its presence once she left the room. The corridor leading to her room was on the highest level of the castle – one could see the sky through the large holes in the ceiling. Rays of light shone on the snow covering the stones. The windows were all broken, the frames missing, some of the stones were gone too. The roses had found their way up here, their red petals mocking the brilliant whiteness of the snow. Rey continued walking in the cold reaching a staircase. When she turned around, she could see the door of the room she woke up in but another sight caught her attention. Her room was just next to the staircase leading to the top of the tower. Where she was forbidden to go; where her captor’s chambers surely were. The girl hurried back angry, searching for the door leading to the staircase but none was there. The walls were perfectly smooth. Maybe the door was on some of the lower floors, she thought, grabbed her skirts and ran down the corridor and the large staircase. Alas, there was no door, just cream-coloured stone, numerous candle sconces shaped like hands and small rooms, most of them destroyed and uninhabitable. Anger was still boiling in her blood but apparently, she would have to wait until dinner to meet whoever was holding her prisoner. The girl swooped down another set of stairs leading her to the half-dark ground floor. Here there were windows only on the side of the corridor looking out to the inner courtyard. Her first thought was to try to open the front gate but she found it to be locked. Rey was half-relieved because she was not certain she would not trust her instinct to flee. That could lead to a greater misfortune for her and especially for Mr. Skywalker. She hoped that he was safe, unharmed by her hostile captor.

The clock in the great hall struck eight, as Rey was impatiently waiting, seated at a chair at the one end of the long table upon which were laid countless meals and drinks. Despite the large number of candles, lit darkness never fully fell back. She did not follow the instructions in the letter – she was still wearing her ivory dress regardless of the tears caused by the rose’s thorns and the tiny bloodstains. She was lost in thought, blankly staring at the silverware when she heard the doors open and shut, sensing the same withering presence fill the room. The girl felt a strong grip on the back of her chair.

“Do not turn around” A deep voice echoed behind her. The first thing that came to her mind was to ask about Mr. Skywalker.

“Where is my father? It he safe?”

“That coward you call father is safe. Cowards always are. But you, you did not do as I say.”

“I refuse to wear black. I am not mourning – should I mourn my own death? If you plan to kill me, have mercy and kill me now!” she swiftly stood up and turned around and saw him for the first time. Rey felt her blood freeze and her lungs begging for air – he, no, it was terrifying. It was not a human being but a creature, a beast, tall and black and frightening. Its maw was filled with sharp teeth, black crooked horns made its way through thick black fur that covered its visible body. It wore a set of black garments – a shirt, a waistcoat and a tailcoat complete with breeches that went a few inches below the knee. The silver handle of a longsword hung at his hip, the blade sheathed. She recognised the same clawed hands that were upon her shoulder and clavicle, that tore the rose from her chest. His eyes were the worst – red and full of rage, ringed with black in such a way that only the irises were visible. Rey stumbled back in horror, her hips hitting the table while her hands were fumbling through the silverware and the porcelain.

“No!” the beast screamed and covered his face with his left hand as his other one lifted and smashed the chair on the wall to their right. All that the girl could feel was her heart beating fast and his anger filling up the room. He was even more terrifying in his rage. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she ran away from him, still hearing a dreadful roar and the smashing of porcelain against stone. Rey reached the gates and tried to open them again, to escape but they did not move. She put her arm across her waist and bent down in desperation. Then came the realisation - the beast was not following her. Not wasting another second, the girl ran to her room and barred the door with the chest that once was at the footboard of the bed. She then slipped under the black furs, desperate to wake up from this nightmare. She entered another one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tantrum: thrown. This time I'm posting the chapter un-betaed so some minor changes may occur.
> 
> I am desperate for feedback just as Kylo is for redemption D:


	4. Osmunda and hortensia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE
> 
> Osmunda: I dream of thee  
> Hortensia: You are cold

**Chapter IV: Osmunda and petunia**

The air was warm and heavy with the promise of summer storms, straining her lungs with every breath. Two figures – a man in a white shirt and black waistcoat and a woman in a white muslin dress, were standing by a flowerbed between two staircases, which led to the doors of the living quarters. Rey was quietly observing them from the balcony that spread in front of these very doors, just above the flowerbed, the couple’s faces remaining hidden. The woman had an Indian shawl draped around her shoulders, her brown hair gathered in a single bun surrounded by a braid. A navy blue carriage with four horses was waiting a few meters away, the coachman already seated and holding the reins. A young boy with unruly black hair, their son perhaps, was standing in front of the couple, his eyelids half-closed. The girl could not tell what he was looking at but it was not his parents.

“Remember that I and your father love you and we are going to miss you.” Rey heard the woman gently say, her voice distant and filled with sadness. The boy’s glassy brown eyes looked up to meet his mother’s gaze. The woman picked a red rose from the flowerbed and attached it to the lapel of his brown coat. Then she pushed the black locks from his forehead and kissed it tenderly.

“Be good.”

His father reached out and cupped his freckled face goodbye. The boy leaned into his warm calloused palm as his eyes fell.

Suddenly, Rey felt her surroundings change – she was not standing on top of the castle’s staircases anymore. Darkness stuck to her skin like tar. Her back was pressed against wooden closed doors behind which something was crackling. In front of the girl spread a thin corridor, a covered bridge, connecting two buildings. Red light passed through the arcs of the bridge and illuminated it. Rey knew that the building behind her was burning but she did not move for the scene before her eyes occupied every fibre of her being. A fatherly hand, tracing a face he had not seen in years, the thumb grazing its cheek, memorizing its features. A touch so light and soft, like a spider web, that it seemed unreal and ghostly. The same boy from before, now a young man once again leaned into the touch of his grey-haired father, his dark eyes reflecting the red flames. He lowered his gaze. The girl inhaled sharply as she noticed the polished blade of his sword in his right hand, dripping with blood. The elder man’s hand trailed off the face of his son and dropped to his side, his body losing composure and falling to the ground. She heard the leather of the young man’s glove squeak as he tightened his grip on the sword, watching his father lay on the cold stone, then an audible gasp sounded, almost smothered by the roar of the flames. His eyes opened with sudden realisation, his features tremored; he strained all his muscles, his jaw clenched like if he did not do so, his body would betray him and he would join his father.

A scream from the building behind her tore Rey out of the image. The flames were now licking the sides of the corridor, the wooden window frames cracking and the glass breaking from the heat. The man suddenly looked up to her, his eyes piercing her very soul. He held his sword upright and quickly walked toward her, the shining surface of the blade patched with dark blood reflecting the flames. Rey flinched but it seemed that his was gaze passing right through her; he did not see her standing there. She quickly removed herself from the door and went round him, swapping places, not letting him out of her sight for a moment. The young man kicked the doors where the lock joined them and she heard the wood break, the doors flinging open. He turned back one last time and went in, engulfed by the flames.

Rey kneeled down on the floor and placed the old man’s head in her lap. He was almost gone, the light hardly present in his eyes.

“Save him.” He said, no more than a whisper, not with voice but merely a breath formed into words. She stood there motionless, haunted by the look in the young man eyes: a pained look of terror, of regret, of determination. Rey did not hear the horrible sound from underneath her feet, not the sinking floor until it was too late; she was falling down amidst stone and wood, night and fire and a dying man’s will.

The girl awoke with a scream from her feverish dream. She saw the flickering light of the flames in the fireplace, bearing reminiscence of the nightmare she had. Her heart was pounding in her chest and baby hairs were sticking to her damp forehead. Rey uncovered herself from the thick black fur she had crawled underneath and got up, pacing around the room, trying to calm herself and to make the tear stop. What was that strange dream? Who were those people? What had happened? “Save him,” she murmured the words “save him, save him.” Save who? She had never seen that man, nor his parents. Save him, the last words of his dying father, the father he had killed. Who could save such a man, if an act like that did not make him a beast in human form?

After managing to catch her breath, she unbuttoned her dress and untied her corset, slowly releasing her body of its supporting grip. Then, sprawled on the bed just in her chemise she fell asleep.

Save him, save him, save him.

 

* * *

 

 

It was already dark when Rey awoke. She had slept long, too long, a black deep sleep but it was better this way, better than the nightmare. She had hoped she would forget it, discard it as no more than a meaningless dream but it still hung heavy in her chest. Oh, how she did not want to be here. The girl wondered what had become of Mr. Skywalker. The beast said he was safe, meaning that he had clearly left the castle and that he was alive. This was good, because it was her fault only after all, she was the one that picked the rose. Perhaps this is why my parents had abandoned me too, because I was and still am an odd child that does more harm than good. The girl just hoped he managed to get home safely and that he did not suffer much even if it meant that she was left behind once more.

She sat up and threw back the furs. Sitting in this room did not mean safety – surely the chest barring the door would mean nothing to the beast, it meant thinking. Thinking about the nightmare, about Mr. Skywalker, about a family long gone, about a beast in black. As her toes barely touched the cool stone floor, she half-leapt from the bed and began dressing herself in her clothes, not noticing the new dress that was laid beside where she had slept, not the letter on top of it. Finally, she put on her cloak and draped the hood over her tousled hair. After taking the candlestick from its holder on the table by her bed, she lit it off one of the three candelabras adorning the walls and putting it back in the holder, unbarred the door and exited.

Rey continued her exploration of the castle. Today she would not attempt to find the way to her captor’s quarters; instead, she headed to the furthest end of the castle, her steps echoing in the empty hallways. The first floor was the least ruined of all and roses did not grow here but somehow their aroma seemed to get stronger. The girl surpassed several doorways, their doors long broken to splinters or laid forgotten and rotting on the floor until the doorframes suddenly ceased. On the outer wall there was a big cherry wood door, a thousand small gilded roses carved in it. Rey walked to it and gently pressed it inwards.

It opened with a loud creak and the girl entered a place that seemed like another world. She slowly stepped inside, her eyes roaming the walls, every inch of them covered by the same roses that grew in so many places in the castle, all of them red just like the one she had picked on that fateful night. Large pots of soil were set in disarray everywhere in this enormous room, a hall more likely, from where Rey stood in awe at the door-case to the opposite wall made of glass panes. This was a winter garden, she knew, barely breathing. Roses crept everywhere and filled the garden with the sweetest of aromas, so intense that it almost made one feel dizzy. She went to the glass wall and tried to open the iron-framed door. It was not rusty but probably frozen for it did not open. Rey pushed it gently but firmly until was afraid to push harder, fearing that the glass would shatter. Then she heard the iron hinges scream and the panes rattle. A gust of wind blew off the flame of her candle and left her in the dim moonlight. The door led to a small balcony, just a few feet over the moat. The moon was shyly peeking between the clouds, illuminating everything in silver. The whole world was asleep under a silver shroud. For a moment she felt oddly at peace, as if she was alone in the world, not abandoned, just alone, alone since the beginning of time and until the end of it, but in this world time did not exist. Only silver light and the white puffs of breath that escaped her lips.

Until she felt him standing behind her. Rey turned around abruptly and walked backwards as the beast confronted her.

“I was waiting for you.” He grunted. “You were late. I was certain you loved your father more than that, but I see you are still trying to escape.”

Fear took over her. His red eyes seemed to glow like embers contrasting against the cool moonlight. She could always feel his presence, as if his emotions became hers, driving her half-mad with fear, rage and grief.

“I… ” she trailed off. “I did not…”

“You do not love him? Neither do I.”

The girl was confused. Why was he holding such strong resentment against Mr. Skywalker? She was the one that picked the rose, it was her fault. All the words in the world disappeared and all she could feel was the blood rushing through her head. The beast’s enormous form was stalking towards her menacingly. Rey knew she had to stop backing away before she loses ground and falls into the moat. So she turned around and leapt onto the snow covering the frozen moat.

The girl landed on her hands and knees, feeling the snow soak through her skirt but she straightened and struggled to move forward through the deep snow. Every step was harder than the last one, the silver shroud of the world, that seemed so beautiful a mere moment ago, was now holding her like a spider web. She remained deaf to the beast’s words and to the cracking of the ice beneath her. He followed her quickly, but not quick enough – the cold water engulfed her. Rey felt her body burn and it hurt so much to breathe. The last thing she saw before her mind going blank was a black clawed hand reach for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loose reference for the castle: http://decomposion.tumblr.com/post/139598207614/milkspores-this-forgotten-castle-ch%C3%A2teau-de-la  
> Someone covered Rey while she was sleeping uwu


	5. Petunia and Pheasant’s eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Petunia: Am not proud; Don't despair; Resentment; Anger; Your Presence Soothes Me  
> Pheasant's Eye: Sorrowful memories; Remembrance
> 
> !Edit on 25 Nov.: added two sentences in this chapther, towards the end of Kylo's POV (about the food)  
> Disclaimer: Some shamelessly borrowed dialogue from SW: TFA

She felt so cold in his arms, so frail and so light despite her drenched clothes that were leaving a trail of droplets on the stone. Her face was paler than the moon and her lips were blue, tiny crystals covered her lashes and brows, slowly melting away. Her breathing was slow and shallow, barely there as the beast climbed up the stairs leading to her chambers. She was scarcely conscious and had no strength to fight or speak, cradled limp in his arms. He could have her pay for her father’s cravenness; he could have left her to become another soul on his conscience, one more ghost to trouble his sleep, a companion of his friends from the academy, his father… and his mother.

He dreamed about her again last night. It was the last day before he left for the Academy, she was sitting by his bed, reading his favourite book, The Lady of The Lake, to him as she used to do when he was a child. In his dreams he was always a boy, never a man or a monster. Her presence at home, no matter how rare it was, filled the house and the serving staff with joy but it made him sadder, because she would surely leave for the capital soon. Her hair, usually bound up in a tight modest bun, now hung loose and unruly, as much as his own, over her shawl-clad shoulders. She was smiling but he could feel she was distressed. His father was absent again, he knew. His trips were growing longer these last months. He would return tonight, riding into the courtyard in the middle of the night and tomorrow would be the last time he saw him for many years to come. It would be the last time but one he sees his mother and father, the next and last time would be their death.

The fire was already roaring when the beast burst into her chambers. He put her on the bed with gentleness he did not think he possessed. After he hastily removed her soaked cloak, he carefully tore her dress and tossed the garments on the stone floor. He remembered the story his mother told him of how his father was punished once by being submerged in freezing water and how she saved him. Naked as her name day the beast tenderly, as to not harm her with his claws, he placed her under the thick covers. He could do nothing more but sit on the bed and hope to see colour rise into her bloodless face.

The girl awoke slowly, the blurry world coming more and more into focus with every flutter of her eyelids. He quickly rose up from the bed, and turned his back to her – his gruesome face needed not be the first thing she saw. He never intended her to see it not then, not yet. If she had never seen his face, she may have come to love him and perhaps… The beast fell into a bottomless rage then, her willfulness robbing him of this last chance for absolution. Even now, he still felt it, the hope gnawing at his chest. He clenched his fist, his sharp claws digging into fur and flesh until they drew blood. Who could love a beast?

He heard her shuffle, struggling to move, to run away.

“You still do not trust me.” It was too late to hide in the darkness now. He took the cup of warm sweetened tea and turned around, slowly bringing it to her. Stopping by the headboard of the bed, he gently reached out and helped her lift her head up, so she could drink. He could not help but notice her flinch at his touch.

“Drink.” The girl tried to bring herself to look him in the eyes, to question his words, to defy him but she quickly averted her gaze. She could not bear his form, he knew. A word he had not said in years escaped his lips.

“Please.” She closed her eyes and drank slowly at first, then thirstily. After her last mouthful, a trickle of the liquid ran down from the corner of her mouth and by instinct his hand hovered over her chin, desperate to touch her. She was beautiful, but afraid despite the determination he saw burning in her eyes even in her weakened state.

“My name is Rey.” He heard her say softly with all current strength of her voice, trying her best to look at him without tearing off her gaze. He knew well his looks, his features twisted into a monstrous face with a maw full of razor-sharp teeth, a pair of horns making their way through the longer fur on his head where his hair would have been. An appearance fit for him, true to what he has done and caused. He remembered how he looked once, remembered looking into the mirror and seeing his father’s face and his mother’s eyes staring back at him before smashing every single one to pieces.

“Would you not tell me your name?” she asked, louder this time, interrupting his thoughts. He had a name once, a name given to him by his parents, a name that he forsook when he took another one, a name that no one has uttered since his mother’s final words.

“Monsters do not have names. You have not had anything to eat in days.”  

He had not had too. The food in the Great hall never rotted or ran out but still it tasted like ashes in his mouth, the wine like poison. It was a thing of human vanity. Monsters must feed on flesh and blood.

Something interrupted his thoughts but the girl had not said a word. There was a strange feeling that was between them, almost like a link connecting their very souls. The beast was so immersed in this new emotion that he did not notice her sighing and weakly clutching at her chest at the same odd sensation. Suddenly, he spoke:

“You were so lonely and cold and hungry… But so afraid to leave… At night desperate to sleep…”

It was getting harder to breathe and his mind was clouded; as if something was piercing his spirit in return. He had to leave, to try and break free of this intrusion, leaving Rey alone in the room.

 

* * *

 

 

Rey felt even weaker than in the moment she had woken up. This odd sensation was familiar to when he was in her presence but much stronger, to the point of being painful. Once more, she felt his wrathful grief, his tempestuous emotion but there was something else, as strange as it may sound, a fear of some sort. The beast was afraid, she wanted to rejoice at this fact, but she could not because this fear was as much as his as her own.

When he returned, she was much calmer. There was a bowl of food in his hands, its pleasant smell of herbs and spices slowly filling the room. It filled her with some verve, just enough to sit up.

“Can you feed yourself?” he asked her, placing the bowl in her hands.

“I believe I can.” She took the spoon and with some effort filled its bowl with some of the soup and with a hand, trembling with extortion brought it to her mouth. It was warm and had a savoury taste of herbs, vegetables and meat bouillon but she had to take a short rest before she could have another spoon so she closed her eyes for a moment. Something took the utensil out of her hand and slipped the bowl of soup from her hand. The girl felt the featherbed sink under his weight.

“Why are you doing this?”

“You are my guest.” He answered and oddly gently brought the spoon to her lips. Rey did not remember anyone feeding her like this – she had always been a robust child and even if she had not been one, there was no one who could have done it before she met Mr. Skywalker. Then, the feeling was there again, surging through her. She let out a shaky breath, her fingers gripping tight the thick furs that covered her.

“Do not be afraid. I feel it too.” The girl looked him in the eyes, a thing she had been avoiding ever since she woke up. His eyes were what made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, her body trembling like a leaf in the cold autumn wind. But not now. They were deep rusty-brown, almost calm, almost sad in a way that he looked almost human. The beast did not return the gaze, instead carefully continuing to feed her until the soup was gone.

“You better rest now. I will see to you tomorrow.” Then he stood up, bowl in hand and started turning around to leave but something made him stop suddenly. He turned back around, his hand reaching for something in the inside pocket of his frock coat and took out a purple book with rich gilded ornaments, its spine brown with age. Then he quietly left the room and into the darkness of the castle.

The gilded letters glowed in the candlelight.

_**[The Lady](https://67.media.tumblr.com/3692c2d5d7187e05c688c45ff0307978/tumblr_oga25lrIIg1r5pmqlo2_1280.jpg) ** _

_**[of the Lake.](https://67.media.tumblr.com/3692c2d5d7187e05c688c45ff0307978/tumblr_oga25lrIIg1r5pmqlo2_1280.jpg) ** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I promised, I managed to update it this week! But! Law school is breathing down my neck so I'm gonna take a some time off to write some course works and etc. D: 
> 
> I faced the ultimate challenge: how to cure hypothermia without dabbling into bestiality? I think I kinda managed it D:
> 
> You may have noticed that certain part of the castle are enchanted (the candelabras, formed like hands, the fires in the fireplaces and some more I'm going to explain in the next chapters)
> 
> Also I know there is some negative connotations surrounding The Lady of the Lake, but I needed a book that was published in the early 1810s, popular and influential, and also telling some story (without being a Gothic novel, or a Jane Austen one).
> 
> Anyway I should stop rambling now, see you in the next chapter!


	6. Bluebell, Marigold and Cypress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bluebell: Constancy; Kindness; Humility  
> Cypress and Marigold: Despair
> 
> Warning for this chapter: Blood, mild (by my standarts, but I read too much ASoIaF) violence and self-harm Kylo style

A thousand rays of light illuminated the room when the girl awoke. The windows had frosted overnight, the crystals refracting the light like a kaleidoscope’s lenses. Rey was feeling much better, her body slowly recovering from the shock the cold water caused. She stretched, memories from last night emerging to the surface of her mind.

The suffocating feeling of the freezing water, a hundred daggers stabbing her body. Something pulled her up from the dark underwater world and into the darkness of the castle. The warmth of the arms that held her contrasted with the cold she felt in the marrow of her bones.  Rey remembered the whisper of ripping fabric to shreds and next thing she was free of her frozen cage. He could have taken everything he wanted, satisfied his monstrous needs with her barely conscious body. The last thing before she slipped into deep sleep was the feeling of the furs wrapping around her beneath the pressure of his hands and the smell of roses.

The beast. There was something human to him, something that overtook his monstrosity and made her feel pity for him. A pitiful creature, full of hate and regret, unstable and out of control. That strange suffocating feeling that passed through them, almost like a link between their souls, it seemed that he also could not control it or break it. As if his thoughts and emotions took over hers, her own escaping her head and heart. Did this mean he could turn her into a monster?

Rey rolled over on her back, staring at the light playing on the bed’s upper panel, the intricate fretwork casting odd shadows. She knew she felt something else through that bond, something beside the hatred and the fear. The fear. He was afraid too. Could monsters be afraid? She remembered his words faintly reaching her. Lonely… Afraid to leave… Desperate to sleep. The beast said he felt it too. Reassured her to not be afraid. He felt it too. There was a strange kindness in his words, empathy even. Compassion.

The girl sat up in the bed, the furs slipping down her bare torso. An old-fashioned chemise was left beside her and she quickly put it on. She noticed the tray on the table beside her bed and reached out to take the bowl. The porridge was warm and sweet with the taste of honey and butter. There were also boiled eggs and a glass of sugary fruit syrup with raspberries floating in it. It was amazing how something simple like porridge could taste so good. She still remembered clearly the time when she had to fight and beg for every bite. In these last days she felt everything she did not want to ever feel again – the loneliness, the hunger, the fear. _Do not be afraid. I feel it too._

She took the book he left. It was one of the most beautiful she had ever seen, perhaps the most beautiful. It was old, but time had not left its mark upon the gilded vine leaves that adorned the front and back covers. However, it did not spare the spine, the leather looking brown rather than purple, the gold paint of the sword worn out. Rey glided her hand over the cover, marvelling at the sensations of the gilded imprints underneath her palm and opened the book.

She did not hear him when he entered the room bringing her lunch not did she notice him stopping in his tracks to stare at her with eyes full of awe and longing. Her mind was busy with the book, an intense look on her face but still she was so serene. The beast made sure to close the door louder, thus informing her of his presence, careful not to startle her and came closer. The girl closed the book and looked at him slightly unsettled but fearless.

“I thought you might be hungry. Are you feeling better?”

She could not help but nod and smile faintly. The beast seemed perturbed, unsure what to say or how to react. He put the tray on her lap. The meal consisted of chicken breasts roasted with herbs, small baked potatoes, a plate of cheese and fruit and a cup of mulled wine to wash it down. Rey placed the book on the bed and took a potato on her fork. She felt his eyes on her. She thought how mannerless she must look, not behaving like a lady but instead eating like a voracious wolf.

“Would you like some?” she said, offering a piece of the meat. There was hesitation in him and for a moment he was about to take it but refused nevertheless.

“Do you like the book?” he inquired. The girl took a sip of the mulled wine and answered him.

“Yes, very much. And the edition is so beautiful. I am sure Mr. Skywalker would be enraptured with its workmanship.” Rey felt the hatred rise in him. He seemed so composed until now, patient almost calm but in a moment it was all gone, replaced by anger and contempt.

“Why don’t you call that coward father? Is he such a despicable one? I suppose so, if he left you alone to suffer.”

“No, no, you are mistaken. Mr. Skywalker is not my father. But he saved me,” _Save him, save him, save him_ , echoed her mind as she spoke “he is my only family and a father to me in every sense that matters. Why do you hate him so? Did you use to know him?”

“You are still weak. I should not disturb you.” He said with feigned coldness and left her to finish her meal alone.

Later Rey tried to get back into the book but for every line she read a thousand thoughts kept her mind away from the text. She had to find him. He had to stop doing what she most hated – leaving without explanation. She was still weak but not so weak that she could not stand or walk. Her body shivered as her bare feet treaded the stone floor. The chest by the footboard of the bed was open, its lid leaning against the oak board and the featherbeds. Someone had rummaged through its contents, clothes sodden with the smell of old silk and wood.

There were stays and chemises, just like the one she wore, folded pocket hoops, many petticoats and stockings, and a dress, all garments made of ivory white silk and satin. She took the dress out of the chest and marvelled at it. It was a delicate robe à la française, a thing beautiful in its unblemished purity of colour, richly adorned with ruffled trimmings, fragile lace and bows. It was not a practical garment but her own clothes lied on the floor ripped in half.

In her state putting on the complicated gown was not an easy task but she managed it somehow. She took a look of herself in the big mirror – her hair was a mess, the curls that used to frame her face reduced to soft waves, all pins that kept her hair in place gone. And the dress. She had only ever seen one like this in the illustrations to history books – both absurd in its unnatural form but elegant and ethereal, otherworldly, a vision of times long gone.

Her cloak was the only article of clothing that was spared. The girl donned it despite the fact that it fit awkwardly over her wide pocket hoops. Outside the sun was crawling to the west but still high in the sky. It’s brilliant rays penetrated the clouds and reflected in the snow that covered the stones beneath the ruined ceiling, filling the world with a soft glow. The roses basked in the sunshine, their colour more vibrant than ever. A strange thing were they, unaffected by the winter and the cold, they petals velvety soft even in this harsh weather.

Rey crept down the stairs, heading for the Great hall, the one that sheltered her and Mr. Skywalker from the raging snowstorm. A ray of light was breaking the gloom that had devoured this floor of the caste – the door leading to the courtyard was slightly open. She pulled it and went out beneath the open sky. The sun warmly kissed her skin, making her forget the winter’s bite. The sight before her was familiar, the flowerbed of roses beneath the balcony where she stood, two sets of stairs descending to the ground on her left and right. The roses had escaped their marble bed, their thorny entwined stems conquering the ground and devouring the banisters. She slowly went down the stairs, minding her steps, the back pleats of her dress trailing behind her.

Her footprints were not alone – deep marks were left on the snow, stretching out to the castle’s gates. The roses seemed to grasp her ankles and pin the hem of her gown, making every step a struggle, as if they were trying to slow her down, to stop her. She tore herself away from their grip and continued forward. The world had grown deafeningly quiet and it seemed like the sun itself had stopped in its place in the sky.

There he was, just beyond the gates at the furthest end of the bridge that went over the moat, his back turned to her and the snow around him brightly red. The distinctive sound of something soft and wet ripping apart echoed in the silence. In front of him lied a dead white hart, one of his antlers was broken off. The heavy metallic smell of blood hung in the air. The beast turned around and saw her standing motionless. His face was wet with blood that turned his black fur even blacker, his red eyes already swirling with wrath. With one swift movement he wrenched out the broken antler, which stuck out from his side and mindlessly threw it away. Blood began flowing from the wound but he only hit it with a fist, leaving splatters of blood on the snow. What he was doing to himself was truly monstrous.

The beast began walking towards Rey and she retreated. It was their dance but not for long. An unfamiliar feeling of anger replaced the despair that filled her. How could he be so contradictious? How could his two sides exist together? He came closer still, his black form towering over her, threatening, his sword dangling in its scabbard against his thigh. The sound of steel rang in her ears as the last beam of sunlight glimmered brightly against the flat side of the blade before the sun was covered by a cloud. The sword was heavy, heavier than she expected, the ruby at the guard shining like a pool of frozen blood but it way that the hilt fit her hands seemed oddly natural. She stepped back, swinging the blade at him clumsily, desperate to stop him, to scare him, to make him come to his senses.

“Why are you so _cruel_ to yourself?”

“Did you honestly think that you can save me? To nurse me like a bird with a broken wing?” The beast spat back at her, every word dripping with pain. His tempestuous rage seemed to infect her. Her hands gripped tighter the sword, swung harder, further, more frequently.

“Please, stop. Stop! I do not want to hurt you.”

“You cannot possibly hurt me even if you wanted to.”

With one last move she circled him, her back turned to the forest instead of facing it, and swung. He turned around and the tip of the blade left its kiss across his face, slashing through fur and skin and flesh. Blood quickly filled the long wound and oozed out of it, steaming in the cold winter air. The beast was in awe.  His wrath had disappeared like the white steam rising from his face dissolved into the air.

Rey looked at the sword. It was oddly familiar, as if she had seen it in somewhere before. Nevertheless, she heaved the sword into the air. The steel gleamed in the faint returning sunlight as the sword was falling into the moat, cracking though the thinning ice and into the water beneath.

  The beast had disappeared. She was alone, standing on the bridge, the snow around her painted red by the hart’s blood… and his. Droplets were splattered in the crushed snow, turning it pink, leading to the gates of the castle. This was what happened in stories – the beast was defeated, and she was free to return to her family. There was nothing standing between her and the road leading her home, away from this monster and his haunted castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was later than I though I would be but I encountered some problems in other fandoms and I'm too butthurt to exist; however the next chapter is already half done (some heavy angst coming). I think I'm almost done with incorporating scenes from the movie into the story. Thanks for reading and commenting!


	7. Purple verbena and Witch hazel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being late! I was hospitalized for a week (I am fine, they took me only for diagnostics) but here it is! I hope you like it and happy holidays!
> 
> Verbena, Purple: I weep for you; Regret  
> Witch Hazel: A spell is on me

Something made Rey linger on the bridge. She knew he was not a monster. It seemed that he ardently wanted to be one, sealing his fate by committing horrible acts but there was a certain kindness to him, hidden beneath the raging hate and bitter regret, a kindness, which remained intact. She saw that kindness, that compassion last night, when he nursed her back to life, wanting nothing in return. And the link they shared, this whirlwind of emotions that made it painful to breathe.

Her feet followed his steps, the bloodied hem of her dress staining the snow pink behind her. The girl traced the red droplets marking the pale stone of the castle, leading her down into the dank cellar and then up, up the narrow steps of the tower where she had once seen a dim light. The door was barely hanging on its hinges, claw marks had turned the wood into ugly splinters. She pushed the door and entered.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the small embrasure behind her. It was truly a place of darkness and decay, where time itself had stopped. Particles of dust were floating in the stuffy air. Every piece of furniture was either covered with cloth or smashed, laying on the floor by the bent candelabras that used to adorn the walls, the white stone arms that used to hold them broken to pieces.

His black form kneeling by the bed stood out, darker amidst the grey of the room.

“Leave!” Pain and contempt filled his voice but he did nothing to stop her from coming his way or to back away from her. His hands were pressed to his face, trying to make the blood cease. He flinched at her touch, looking at her shocked, unstable and trembling, on the verge of shattering like glass in a fire. She entwined her fingers with his, removing his hands from his bleeding face. The cut was clean but deep. Rey held his hands for a moment more.

“I will return,” she whispered, her voice weak, “I will return.” she repeated, louder, making sure he heard her.

When he let her go, she grabbed her skirts and ran down the stairs of the tower, then up again to the first level and the Great hall. Rey rummaged through the decanters laid on the table, searching for some hard liquor. One seemed to have the brown amber colour of brandy. She remover its stopper and took a sip. The cognac burned her throat but she was satisfied with her finding. Next, she tore a big piece of the tablecloth and headed back to the beast.

He had not moved at all since she left him. The girl went to his side and helped him place his trembling body on the bed, sitting.

“This will hurt very much. Close your eyes.” She said before she put her finger at the mouth of the bottle and began pouring the cognac over the wound. Even if it hurt him, he did not show it. He was much calmer now. Rey tore the piece of the tablecloth into narrow strips and began dressing the wound. He stood perfectly still as she disinfected the wound on his side and bandaged it too. She felt the beast watching her but he said nothing. When she was done, she flashed a quick gaze towards him, meeting his eyes for the duration of a heartbeat but he averted his eyes and stared into the darkness, as if her image was too bright not to blind him.

She sat on the bed and gently touched his face, carefully running her fingers through the soft hairs that were not covered by the linen cloth, sticky with drying blood. He let out a shaky breath.

“I am a monster, you know this, a demon lingering in this world, my castle a haunted hell but once I was a boy, a man…”  he began, his voice croaking but firm, “A man who murdered his own father.”  

The words hung in the air. Rey seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

 “The supreme leader said it was going to prove my devotion, to make me stronger. I have never felt weaker in my whole life as when I drove my sword through my father’s chest, the screams of my friends drowned by the sound of the flames and the whirlwind inside of my head. It was the first time I saw him in many years, his hair was all grey and white, age had left her mark upon his face. It was the first time he saw me as a man and not a child. The leader said that by the strength of the other disciples'  blood and my father’s I would finally become who I was destined to be. I was blind and foolish then, I should have known that this self-proclaimed Supreme leader was using me but when I finally realised it, it was too late. The light in my father’s eyes was dying. The last thing I remember from that night is how Snoke’s foul blood mixing with my father’s on the surface of my sword made me sick, how he hissed, like a snake, dying in the fire. I would bask in the sweetness of this revenge, of my final freedom from his influence, but I would need to kill him a thousand times only to dull the utter overcoming hollowness that my father’s death has left in me.”

Her head was buzzing and she felt nauseated. The only thing in the world was his deep voice and that strange feeling clutching her throat.

“However, it turned out that I was foolish still and that I was to cause even more death. I rode home like the wind. The news travelled faster than I did. When I reached the castle, no one welcomed me. I was a murderer stalking the corridors of his own home, rain dripping down my redingote. I found my mother in her chambers wearing black. She had always worn white, for as long as I could remember, but now she was in mourning. I made her wear black. Her greying hair stood out against her clothes. She looked so much older than she was. My mother knew what I had done, but she welcomed me nevertheless and embraced me, despite the pain I caused her and the sins I had committed. She tried to hide the fact that she was sick, but her health soon deteriorated and I could not do anything to ease her physical pain. She died soon after. On her deathbed she said had forgiven me as soon as she saw me, but I knew that sins may be forgiven, however, crimes require punishment. I was made into a beast as I was kneeling beside my mother’s cooling body and I was glad that she never got to see her son’s image matching his deeds.”

She noticed a gilded frame peeking beneath a grey cover, leaning on the wall nearby. Her fingers fidgeted over the fabric and slowly pulled it away. It revealed a large old portrait of a family consisting of couple and their child standing in front of them, the man’s hand on his son’s shoulder. Their faces seemed familiar as if she had seen them somewhere before… in a dream, in a nightmare. The cover fell from her fingers as she moved her hand to her face to muffle the cry that escaped her mouth. Tears streamed down Rey’s face and she was not able to stop them. It hurt so much. How could he be so impassive when he suffered? Why wasn’t he struggling to lift this… this curse?

“Is there any way in which I can help you?” she spoke, choking on her tears. The beast remained silent for a heartbeat too long.

“No.” was the simple firm answer he gave. “You should not be crying for me. What’s gone and what’s past help should be past grief.”

The girl focused her eyes on him. He was looking at her but he seemed distant, as if he was watching something in her place, something she could not see. It was better to leave him alone now. She stood up, ready to leave him to rest.

“Stay. Please. Your presence soothes me.”

And so she did stay. They sat in silence at first, the air filled with the copper smell of blood. None of them was brave enough to talk but their minds and souls seemed to communicate without their permission. When they finally gathered the courage to speak, their voices were no louder than whispers as if any louder word would hurt them and awake demons from their sleep.

The dawn found them asleep in the haven of the tower, amidst the remnants of times both glorious and bloodthirsty. Rey awoke first to the sound of melting snow and birdsongs. Sleep slowly lifted its veil from her and she stood up, ready to leave.

“Rey.” She heard him say her name for the first time. It sounded strange, his voice filled with an emotion she could not quite name. “You are free to go home to your father. But before you leave I have to ask you for a favor. You are by no way obliged to me, you owe me nothing.”

Her brown eyes questioned him.

“Would you mind if I invite you to dance?”

* * *

 

The girl was slowly descending the stairs, careful not to trip on her dress, when the clock struck eight. She cursed silently and mended her pace. The dress took too long to put on – she had to be careful with the delicate cloth of gold and silver, the satin petticoat with embroidered gold moons and stars and the fragile veil and lace sleeves that went pass her fingertips. When she entered the hall, he was there, waiting for her.

“You are late” he said with a light tone and approached her, taking her hand gently in his and kissing it. He was wearing a pair of his usual old but expertly made black clothes. The white bandaging on his face stood out against his attire and fur. The table was moved to the side to make space for dancing and all the candles were lit. For the first time she saw the hall in all its splendor. The mirrors reflected the candle flames a million times, as if they were countless bright fireflies that floated in the air. She just then saw he was holding something in his other hand – a crown weaved from the red roses that grew everywhere in the castle. He caught her gaze and tenderly placed the wreath on the crown of her head. The gesture struck her so deeply she forgot to thank him.

Holding her by the tips of her fingers, the beast closed the distance between them and she reached out to put her hand on his shoulder. It was just then, when he dared to put his palm on her waist.

“Are you ready?”

“Are you?” the beast hesitated but made the first step and she followed. There was no music and she felt the panniers of her dress move unnaturally. It was probably the first time someone waltzed in an Ancien Regimé court dress. Her mind was busy paying attention to the rhythm she was mumbling to herself. She was a fast learner but waltz was never one of her priorities, furthermore it required a partner – something she did not always had at the cottage and she did not want to bother Mr. Skywalker. Then they made a second and a third step, slowly spinning. And she heard it. It started out as the beating of her heart, steady and fast, but somehow dull, drowned in a thousand thoughts and none at the same time. The first note was struck. Soon she heard the high cry of violins and the soft rumble of a harp, the quiet warm sound of a flute and the deep melody of a cello. She certainly felt drunk but not a drop of wine had touched her lips. As if the floor beneath her feet was gone and they were gliding on the air, spinning in broad circles, everything around them summed down to music, light and that feeling they shared. For a waltz there was no pain, no hate, no fear.

When the music stopped, they were both in a daze and out of breath. They held on each other as if they would drift away from each other. His eyes looked different, they seemed more brown, hazel even in the candlelight, than red, still pained but soft. Perhaps she was yet to catch her breath and all this was just in her head. In this hazy state she heard him say:

“You can go. You can visit your father. You can stay with him or return to me. It is beyond my powers to keep you captive. I only ask one thing of you – decide and come back in three days, no more, no less. Go now. Go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlocked: tragic backstory.


	8. Carolina jasmine and hemlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jasmine, Carolina: Separation  
> Hemlock: You will be my death
> 
> First, I want to express my sadness caused by the loss of Carrie Fisher, our beloved space mom. I never knew how much I'd miss her (hell, one year back I wasn't even a Star Wars fan) but I now realize what an important part of my life and of the world was she. So, I hope she rests in peace and watches over us all.  
> Second, Happy New year! 2017 better be nice to us, because I cannot bear more.

The black horse he gave her seemed to know the way to her home. Home. Rey rode fast or rather the horse carried her through the white forest as she clutched his mane and soon she saw the small cottage half-buried in the snow. The warmth that filled her heart at that dear sight could not dull the sound of his voice in her head. Three days. Decide and come back in three days. Why would she want to go back? He was a murderer, he had killed his own father and friends, he had forsaken the only thing she had ever wanted – family.

But he knew it too. He realised what he had done and did not justify his actions. He was full of hatred, mostly to himself and life itself. He was neither good – good men were not murderers, nor evil – villains had no compassion and felt no remorse. Three days. She had three days to figure out what he was.

When the horse stopped by the front door, she leapt into the piled snow. It was already dawn. She had not had time to change her clothes and the big panniers made it hard to move through the snowdrifts. Mr. Skywalker always shovelled the snow around the house, making narrow hip-high passages in order to reach the stables and the shed where he kept some tools and stored the wood for the fireplace. Now the snow was untouched.

Rey somehow made her way to the front door and entered. Inside the air was stale and smelled like smoke but there was no fire in the fireplace. It was too quiet.

“Father? Are you home?” the girls' voice echoed as she wandered through the kitchen, the dining room, the library and Mr. Skywalker’s workshop. She found him in his small bedroom upstairs. Rey quickly rushed to his side and held his hand.

“Father, what has happened? Can you hear me, father?”

“Rey... Is it really you? Oh god, how I feared for you! I have not slept at all and I would have come if this old body of mine had not betrayed me. Did B-,” he stopped to take a deep shaking breath, “are you well? How did you escape?” Rey swept the gray hairs that stuck to his forehead and entangled in his brows and lashes. Her dear Mr. Skywalker, the only family she ever had. His heart had born many wounds during the years but the girl was yet to know that. The fact that he had to leave her in that castle was what drove him to illness. He ignored it at first, travelling to the town even is this dreadful weather to try to get some help, but when no one believed him he returned even more heartbroken. When he sat on the bed, trying to come up with a plan, to think of some way in which he could save her, he did not know he would not stand up anytime soon. The heartache Mr. Skywalker felt became physical – a shuddering feeling passed through his body at every attempt to move.

“I am here now. He let me go.”

“He? Ben…” Mr. Skywalker’s voice filled with pain at the sound of that name. The girl gently kissed his forehead as he drifted into shallow sleep. She lit the fire in the room and left the old man to rest while she made some soup and tended other chores around the house. Time passed quickly in the dimly lit cottage, days and nights changing unnoticed as Mr. Skywalker only woke up to eat in silence, the shadow of sleep too deeply casted upon his mind. Rey slept by his side, her head rested on the space beside his hand, ready to respond to his every need.

The moon was shining through the window when the girl heard Mr. Skywalker’s voice and immediately started to fret over him.

 “Father, you should rest. Do not strain yourself.”

“No. I have kept this too long from you and it has come to hurt you too like it tore apart everyone that I have ever loved. Ben... I loved him as if he were my own son, for he was my own flesh and blood. I knew that there was good in him.”

Ben? He said that name before; it sounded both familiar and completely unknown to her, as if she heard, it once upon a dream or read in scribbled on the inner side of a book cover. Perhaps it was some old friend of Mr. Skywalker's. My own flesh and blood. A relative? He had never mentioned any.

“He never told you his name, didn’t he? However, he must have told you how much he hates me. It is my fault after all.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “I have not been a bookbinder all my life. Many years ago I had a family – a loving sister, a best friend who happened to become her husband and their child, my nephew who I loved as my own child.”

“Ben?” He smiled weakly at her childish question.

“Yes, Ben. My sister and I were born during the bloody times of the Revolution and were raised separately. We never knew our parents and we came to know each other by accident – no one knew of the existence of the other. Maybe that explains the differences in our characters. While she preferred to fight with words, I had an aspiring career during the Napoleonic wars. I quickly rose to the rank of a marshal and when the wars were over, the only thing left for a soldier in peaceful times was to pass my skills and knowledge to the next generation, hoping that they would use it to protect the fragile peace. It turned out that I was too blind and careless to notice that evil was present not only in war, that its roots ran deeper than we could see. And then, it was too late. Ben had fallen under the influence of the so called Supreme leader Snoke. I suspect he must have watched him for years, like a puppeteer pulling threads to make him come to his side...”

The air in her lungs stilled. Ben. His name was Ben. Mr. Skywalker’s words sounded dull and distant as he told her what she had heard from the beast.

“When I arrived he was already gone. I was terribly late. The only thing I could to was hold one of my students as he bled out of the wound Snoke inflicted upon all of them in the manner of his heretical practices. I sometimes still feel the reek of smoke and blood surrounding me. It was always what war smelled of. Smoke and blood. The news of my sister’s death soon reached me; the horrible tale of a man who murdered his own father and buried his mother with his bare hands. I should have sought him, I should have tried to console him but all I did was run and hide. Then came the July revolution. I assumed he had died and I hoped he had found peace at last.”

He gave her hand a squeeze and smiled gently as he sat up in the bed despite her protests. By doing so, he uncovered a book that he clutched in his other hand. A purple book with gold etchings, old with age and use, the edges of the pages gone dark from the fingers that had leafed through it countless times.   

“This used to be his favourite book. Our favourite book. It was the first book I bound, a copy for him and one for me. I kept the uglier.” Rey stared at the book but saw it not. This was too much. Ben. What was he in the end? Was he the monster with bloodstained hands or the shy boy that lived in Mr. Skywalker’s memories? Or the guilt-ridden man that had remorse running in his veins instead of blood but who was capable of kindness and compassion?

“How did he come to let you go?”

“It was because of you. He seemed to know that I was deeply worried even after I stopped vocalising my concern. It must be that strange sensation that has me by my heart, clenching my soul…” The girl’s hands waved in the air, trying to express what words could not.

“Oh, Rey, it was not because of me. It was because of you. You seem to have power over him no one alive has. I see he gave you my mother’s clothes. You look so much like her, so full of light. And those roses, my sister’s favourite. They stayed fresh for days, their sweet scent remained intact for weeks. He would never give those things to someone he did not love dearly. But the flowers in your hair are wilting.”

Rey’s fingers brushed against the crown of roses but instead of velvety petals, they met flowers dry as bone, crumbling at her touch. Decide in three days. Her breath hitched. Three days. It was almost dawn now and the three days had almost passed. The girl felt dizzy as she abruptly rose from the bed and paced around the room in confusion.

“I think you should go.”

“Should I?” she asked with a trembling voice. She knew she needed to. Something was wrong. Something was leaving her, fading. Three days, he had said, three days, but why? What would happen if she did not manage to reach him in time? She did not want to know. Mr. Skywalker’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

 _“The rose is fairest when 't is budding new,_  
_And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears;_  
 _The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew_  
 _And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears._ ”

“Now go, child, go! Save him!”

So she went.

Rey rushed out of the house and into the stables where the black stallion waited for her. He swiftly carried her, sending snow flying with his hooves but it was not fast enough. Her heels dug further into his body until foam formed on his mouth but in the east, the first morning light was already painting the sky lilac. She could feel something she could not quite grasp slip slowly from her reach, from her soul, leaving her blank like the snow around her. Do not go, she wanted to say to this feeling, do not fade away, but the words were stuck in her throat; she knew words could not help. When she saw the castle, it was already glowing in the warm tones of the dawn.

She was late.

 

* * *

 

 

The beast was wandering around the empty castle. Peace had once more left him, if in fact he ever knew peace before she came. The calmness she had brought washed over him and left him marvelling at the quietness in his soul. No more terror, no more hate, no more fear. The ghosts that haunted him rested in peace, hidden in the castle walls. The forgiveness he had asked for was granted upon him. Letting her go was the least he could do. Now that she was gone, he could feel that serenity slowly pull away from him, like the moon pulled the tides back into the sea, but it did not matter. Death would come soon enough for him.

It did not matter that she would never come back. He was grateful for her presence as long as it lasted; grateful for the memory of her that would be with him until he dies. But there it was again. Hope. It shone brighter than the sunlight that passed through the holes in the castle. Perhaps, she would return. Perhaps, just perhaps, she could love a monster. Perhaps, she already loved him. It was night now, the final night and she was not here. He was weak and pitiful, a fool who believed in daydreams.

Hope. Rey was hope, hope was light, light was love and he loved her, no matter how painful the thought of never seeing her again was. Yet she knew fear and darkness and it only made her shine brighter. “ _And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears_ ”. He was a wretch compared to her; what he thought was strength only weakened him. She was strong, stronger than she knew, strong enough to fight his demons and to hear his confession. Strong enough to cry for him. When her tears fell upon his hand, he knew. “ _And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears.”_

His legs were trembling with extortion, his steps were getting irregular and slow. It was time – life was leaving him. He managed to reach the winter garden before he fell to his knees and he crawled amongst the roses. Ben rested his head on one of the flowerbeds. He always thought death was going to be physically painful – the pained expressions of his father and mother were deeply imprinted on his memory; but now he knew it was a different kind of pain, one he never knew existed. The pain of leaving without being able to ever return. He would never meet her again, not in this life or in the next, for she was an angel and he knew well enough that for him there was only hell. Still Ben felt calm. The end was here.

“Rey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end, guys! The next chapter is going to be shorter, I warn you, but I hope it provides a satisfactory ending


	9. Red Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, guys, welcome to the final chapter! Now, without any further enjoy reading it, you can read my ramblings in the end notes.

The castle was darker than ever; despite the rising sun there was not a ray of light to show her the way. The candles in the hallways were not burning. The arms that held the candelabras stood limp against the walls. Rey carefully walked forward, her palm gliding over the smooth surface of the stone walls around her. If she could just find him. She shouted his name but he did not come; an uneasiness settled in her ribcage. He would have come even without her call. The girl felt oddly empty as if she was suddenly half-blind or half-deaf, as if a part of her very soul was maimed and dying, fading into nothingness.

She felt the engraved door of the Great hall beneath her palm and pushed it open. There was nothing left of the splendour she saw in the night of her dance with him – the mirrors seemed to engulf all light instead of reflecting it; the food upon the table that never rot was now full of maggots. The girl searched the room for him but he was not here. She found her way to his chambers in the tower, falling in the darkness, until her knees became bruised and her palms scratched by the roughness of the stone but there was not a single soul. Rey searched for him in every hallway and every room until she was out of breath, but he was nowhere to be found, not even in her room, even though he had clearly been there. As if he had disappeared like dreams disappeared when one lifts the curtains.

The girl found him in the winter garden, his body sprawled amongst the roses that seemed to have wrapped their dying stalks around him. Just like the flowers in her hair, they were dry and wilting, their redness fading to black. Rey fell to her knees and frantically tried to wake him up. This could not be. She never knew—, he never told her he would die. Her fists pounded at his chest as if hurting him would bring him back. Tears streamed down her cheeks that still burned red from the cold and she stroked the fur on his face. He had removed the bandage even though the wound had not yet healed. There was nothing she could do. The sobbing girl buried her face in his clothes, feeling the thorns of the roses gently prod her skin.

“I love you. Ben.”

She allowed herself to wallow in her sorrow. He had left her too. It was certainly her fault. There was something wrong with her, for surely it caused her parents to abandon her and never come back. Now she bore the blame once more – she was blind and then indecisive; she knew she loved him after his last breath. Instead, she wondered who he was. He was everything – the monster, the boy and the man. He was human – neither good, nor bad, but deeply unhappy. Decide and come back in three days was all he asked of her. Was it so hard to do it properly? She was the one who left him to die. She was the one who left.

“It is you.” She heard a familiar soft voice say. When Rey lifted her head, she saw a man, the same young man she saw in her nightmare, but now his features were empty of rage and contempt. He had long dark hair and pale complexion adorned with many small freckles. A long faint scar ran down across his face. Her fingers gently brushed the pearly scar tissue.

“I never said how sorry I am.”

“You shouldn’t be.” Ben took her hand in his and with her help sat up. He awkwardly leaned in until their foreheads touched. They looked in each other’s eyes, smiling as the young man brushed away her tears. Their lips met briefly in a tender kiss until she retracted, her sweet laughter ringing through the winter garden, too happy and a little embarrassed. Rey put her lips on his again for a second kiss.

The red roses around them were in full bloom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a wild ride. I've been writing this for over a year (way too long for a fic under 20k words), and it's the first chaptered fic I ever posted and finished. Some things I could have written better, other things are straight up cringe (the summary and the first couple of chapters) but I hope you liked it! Please, comment (I need the sweet validation) and see you around!


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